Betrothed
by Beckthter
Summary: When Aelìs finds out her betrothed is back from the dead, she will fight with everything she has to bring back the Loki she once knew. Loki/OC. Follows the Thor: Dark World timeline.
1. Chapter 1

**BETROTHED**

When Aelìs finds out her betrothed is back from the dead, she will fight with everything she has to bring back the Loki she once knew. Loki/OC. Follows the Thor: Dark World timeline.

* * *

**Inspired by **_**Snuff – Slipknot:**_

_Bury all your secrets in my skin_

_Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins_

_The air around me still feels like a cage_

_And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again..._

_So if you love me, let me go._

_And run away before I know._

_My heart is just too dark to care._

_I can't destroy what isn't there._

_Deliver me into my fate -_

_If I'm alone I cannot hate_

_I don't deserve to have you..._

_My smile was taken long ago_

_If I can change I hope I never know._

_I still press your letters to my lips_

_And cherish them in parts of me that savor every kiss_

_I couldn't face a life without your light_

_But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight._

_So save your breath, I will not care._

_I think I made it very clear._

_You couldn't hate enough to love._

_Is that supposed to be enough?_

_I only wish you weren't my friend._

_Then I could hurt you in the end._

_I never claimed to be a saint..._

_Ooh, my own was banished long ago_

_It took the death of hope to let you go._

_So break yourself against my stones_

_And spit your pity in my soul_

_You never needed any help_

_You sold me out to save yourself._

_And I won't listen to your shame_

_You ran away - you're all the same_

_Angels lie to keep control..._

_Ooh, my love was punished long ago_

_If you still care, don't ever let me know_

_If you still care, don't ever let me know_

* * *

**Chapter One**

I looked on as he was marched, muzzled and chained, up the stairs to the Great Throne Room, where he would stand before the All-Father for judgement. The crowd gathered on the steps of the palace, shouting and cheering: the God of Mischief had finally been caught, and they wanted blood.

But I could not join them in their revelry.

A passing neighbour had told me the news just as I was saying goodbye to a student. Without a word, I ran; down the foothills from my house, along the roads toward the palace. I fought my way through the crowds until I saw the procession. There he was, flanked by guards, and yet his countenance never wavered. Head held high, he looked around with bored disdain, as if he'd never left his royal station. My heart soared, my breath caught in my throat, my fists clenched.

My betrothed - my betrayer - back from the dead.

I had to talk to Hjalmar.

I turned, trying to squeeze my way out of the pressing crowd. I came to a point where the bodies were too thick, pressed together shoulder to shoulder. There was no way out.

"Make way for Loki's whore," a sneering voice called from behind me.

I stopped. Everyone within earshot had turned from the spectacle below and were now staring at me.

I spun and, in a blink, my knife was at his throat.

"Tell me Geir, are you quite attached to this beard? Because say one more word and I will separate it from that weak chin it is hiding." The soldier and I were well-acquainted, my parents had rejected an offer of marriage from him when we were young, and he has harboured a grudge ever since.

His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, giving a miniscule shake of his head.

_Captain's guard my ass._ I released him. _I'll have to thank Thor for those lessons._

This time, the crowd quickly parted before me. _Cowards_, I thought. The people of Asgard feared anything different, any possibility of evil. This would not help my already precarious reputation.

I walked south to Medina, down towards the bay, where most of the soldiers were quartered. There I found Hjalmar in the Beer Hall, surrounded by his unit, including Geir.

_Dammit, how did he get here before me? _He was murmuring some urgent news to his Captain, no doubt about me.

I approached the table. "Hjalmar?" Ten heads turned from their mugs to look up at me.

Geir's eyes narrowed. "What does Loki's wench want with our Captain?" He spat.

Hjalmar stood, hand on hilt, his enormous frame dwarfing the fuming lieutenant. "Leave now Soldier; if you value your life."

As Geir stormed out, I tilted my head toward him, "It's not true what they say Geir: you aren't as stupid as you look."

I smirked at his frustration, watching him fight the urge to lash out at me, and with a dark glance at his Captain, he left.

"All of you; leave us." Hjalmar ordered.

They quickly obeyed, and no sooner were they out of earshot that he spoke. "Geir is becoming a problem. Too pig-headed to be of any use. I think I will have to transfer him."

"Will he be put to death?" He knew I did not mean Geir.

He walked around the table toward me. Hjalmar was a large, stern man, with kind blue eyes, light brown hair and a short beard. Grey flecked his temples and jaw. He was a popular Captain, instilling great loyalty in his soldiers. They would all die for Asgard. He accepted nothing less.

"It is likely." He said without emotion.

My legs suddenly felt weak beneath me, I had to sit down on the bench. "And if they don't?" I looked up at Hjalmar, trying to appear calm while my emotions raged inside me.

He sat beside me, his brow furrowed in concern, his kind blue eyes full of regret, mistaking my turmoil as that for him. "Then we must part. You cannot be betrothed to two men."

"And I go on living a life of purgatory, chained to a man who cannot love me," I said, staring blankly at the floor.

"Odin is a just King," he said, trying to reassure me. Hjalmar, for all his fierceness, would have made – _would make_ – a kind husband. Not affectionate or passionate perhaps, but loyal and good. I could ask for no better. "It may not come to that."

_That is what I fear the most._ I felt a cold sickness creeping over me. "So what now?" I asked looking up at him.

"We wait. As soon as Odin makes his judgement, word will be sent."

I sat, numbly, as we awaited the verdict in silence. I wanted both; I wanted neither.

Finally, a young soldier rushed in. Hjalmar jumped to his feet, and I along with him. The soldier saluted, and shook his head. Hjalmar nodded, and the soldier left. I looked at Hjalmar, not understanding.

"Loki lives."

I blew out a breath and sat down again, nodding, "I'm sorry, Hjalmar." My mouth had trouble forming the words.

"No, I'm sorry Aelìs. I know what this means for you." With a pained look he bowed, leaving me alone, terrified of what was to come.

* * *

I dragged my legs home, suddenly weary, as if lead weights were tied around my body. Out of Medina, and into the hills where my house stood at the edge of the city. I could just see it, above the other houses, with its flower-framed windows and small garden in front. It represented all I had built from the ashes left in Loki's wake. For a time I was despised, rumours about me abounded that I was somehow involved. Some even said that Loki was an innocent victim, and I had orchestrated the whole ordeal in my scheme to get to the throne. The ones who counted knew the truth, and that was all I cared about. One side effect was the career boost the notoriety gave me. Never before had my voice been so sought after. To the rich I became somewhat of a curiosity, and they invited me to perform at their parties. Their friends flocked to see Loki's betrothed, eager to prod and probe, discover what I knew of the fallen Prince. After some time, my talent won out, and the questions stopped.

As the road began to ascend, I looked left toward the palace, shining magnificently across the bay, and Loki, imprisoned somewhere deep within. I thought of how many times as children we had chased each other around those halls. A time of such light and laughter, when our futures promised everything our little hearts could dream of.

My Father was on Odin's council, so there was always some official feast or celebration at the palace to be dragged along to. I was lumped in with the other children and, I'm told, followed Loki wherever he went. My mother said I adored him even as a tiny child. Loki would tolerate me, often using me as a pawn in one of his mischievous games; and I, being three years younger, would eagerly obey. He loved to raise hell for his Nanny. My earliest memories were of him shoving me in a cupboard, telling me to hide there and not make a sound. My panicked Mother and a distraught Nanny found me two hours later, giggling and telling them to "Shhhh." I was three years old.

As I grew, I took a more complicit part in the mischief, helping him in his tricks. We had a lot of fun together, but Loki had a cruel streak. Often a trick would go too far, someone would get hurt or humiliated. I would run and hide, covering my mouth in fear and shock; but he'd be there beside me, laughing. He was arrogant, but that was to be expected of a Prince. He never met with any consequences for his actions, always ready to heal with magic, or placate with some coin. Perhaps that was a reason for what happened later…

When I was eleven, my Mother sat me down before we left the house one evening and told me that we could no longer play together like children. He had just turned fourteen, and was becoming a man now. I was heartbroken. He was my best friend, the one I shared my secrets with, who I laughed with until I couldn't breathe. That night, I waved to him as he sat by his brother at the feast table. He waved and smiled back but, as time went on, his smiles grew less, and too soon his eyes passed right over me.

Finally home, I stood in the doorway of my house. My mother and sister stared at me warily from the kitchen. They had been waiting for me: they knew what this day meant.

I bent over, pulling off my boots. "I saw Hjalmar," I said as I removed my jacket and hung it by the door.

My mother didn't respond immediately, but gestured toward the table, where she had laid out some cheese, bread and fruit. "We didn't think you'd eaten," She said. She knew me too well. The worry showed in the fine lines around her eyes. I had many of her features: her fine stature, small heart-shaped face, and large brown eyes. Unlike me she was fair, with sunlight streaked hair, now greying with age. I shared my father's colouring, with thick, dark brown wavy hair, and peach complexion.

I sat down by the wide window, the late afternoon light streaming through. My mother watched me with trepidation. I think she always felt some responsibility for what happened with Loki. It was she who had approved the match, convincing my father it was a good idea, even though I was much too young. They had originally intended my older sister, who was closer in age, for him. But if a prince wanted to marry their daughter, who were they to refuse? I think my impending betrothal to Hjalmar had been somewhat of a relief for her, no longer having to worry for my future.

"And? What did he say?" My sister, Dalla, brought three cups of wine to the table and sat down. She and her twin brother, Raold, were tall and strong like my father, but with my Mother's fair hair and tanned skin.

"What could he say?" I answered. "He was kind, but…" I paused to take a long gulp from my cup, "He is a strong and handsome captain, not yet old, there will be many more beauties lining up to be his bride."

"But Odin signed the annulment," my sister said.

"And now it will be cancelled."

"Aelìs," my Mother took my hand, cradling it in her lap, "we could petition Odin. He annulled your betrothal to Loki before, maybe he will see-"

"No Mother. _Betrothal until marriage, or death_," I recited, "that is the law. Odin will not change it for me." I stood, draining the last of my wine. "Thank you for checking in on me, but I think I need some rest."

"But you have not eaten-" my Mother protested.

"I am too tired to be hungry, Mother. Please, help yourselves." I walked up the stairs to my bedroom, collapsing on the bed from exhaustion, still fully clothed.

The next few days I had my students to keep me busy: budding singers with a big dream in their hearts. Some were a joy to teach: absorbing every note, practising for hours. Others… well, how do you tell a paying parent that their money would be better spent somewhere else?

Then there was my performance at the end of the week to work toward. Some aristocratic wedding they wanted - no, _demanded_ - the famed Songbird sing at. So I tripled my fee, and they gratefully accepted.

And through it all, Loki played on my mind every waking minute, even in sleep. On the fifth sunrise after his return I woke with a gasp, his name still on my lips and, I could have sworn, his fingers in my hair.

I could wait no longer. I had to see him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: Thank you to all my new followers! But where are my reviews? I'm sorry but I am very vain and pathetic and need to hear the praise of my peers to go on. How about a question? What do you think Loki will be like when we finally meet him? How will he treat Aelis? Love you all xx_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"I - Sten - entrust to thee the sword of my ancestors, to be passed onto our firstborn son, and to his after that." The young man knelt, serious and proud, lifting the sword in both hands to his bride.

They stood with the Priestess under a bowing willow tree. A soft breeze gently tousled the lovely young bride's long flowing hair, her skirts fluttering. We were gathered to watch them in a green fragrant garden, bordering what was to be their marital home.

It was the start of wedding season, which ran from late Summer into early Winter, to coincide with our now-defunct harvest. Bryn and Sten's union was my first of the season, but by no means my last. This was my busiest time of year, and when the leaves began to turn my calendar quickly filled. While our wedding ceremonies were simple and often sombre occasions, it was the week-long celebration afterward that everyone really looked forward to. In times past, the season meant plenty of honey, which in turn kept the mead flowing; for to run out of mead during the feast meant a cursed marriage. Us Asgardians were a superstitious bunch. Then again, running out of mead really did kill a party so I could see where they were coming from.

Taking the sword from her groom and passing it to her hand-maiden, the bride took another from her page, and turned back. "And in return I – Brynja -" she began in a small, shaking voice, "present this sword to thee as a gift, that thou will be my guardian and protector, as my Father before you." She knelt, holding it up to her groom, nervously pinching her lips together.

Sten took the sword and placed a small gold ring on the hilt, extending it to Brynja. "Blood of my blood. Bone of my bone. I give to thee that which is mine to give. My body: that two may be one; my spirit: 'til life shall be done; and this ring: as a sign of our blessed union."

Brynja took the ring, placing it on her finger then did the same for him, repeating the vows.

Together they clasped hilt of the sword, one hand over the other, speaking in one voice. "On this day I pledge myself to thee. May we go forth now no longer separate but one: one in flesh, one in spirit, one in life, one in death." Brynja's voice grew stronger as it joined with his.

As the couple shared the horn of mead, and fed each other bread, I began to sing my song of blessing. There was no small measure of bitterness that itched at me whenever I attended a wedding. _It should have been you, _a taunting whisper said inside me, sounding strangely like Loki. But I tried to keep it out of my song, I wanted them to feel celebrated and hopeful for things to come, not mourning what should have been. It was a skill that had taken long years to overcome, controlling my power, making others feel not how I felt but how I wanted them to feel. You see, while Loki learnt his incredible magic from Frigga, mine came from some deep, ancient well within me. I could weave a story into the listener's mind - could make their hearts soar or break - all with a song. Loki once told me I had bewitched him with that voice, casting a spell that had woven its way into his soul. I believed him, too. How else could I explain him choosing me as his betrothed, when he could have had his pick of the kingdom?

The priestess dipped a sponge into the cup, sprinkling it over the couple and guests. "May your home, your cup and your belly never be empty; go forth and flourish." She had barely finished the words when the bride and groom tore off, racing each other to the doorway of his home. Another Asgardian superstition: the loser's party had to pour drinks for the winner's all night long.

I cheered them on, laughing along with the others when the groom tripped on the way, stumbling to the ground. His bride stopped, turning back to see if he was ok. "Go! Go!" We shouted at her, so she spun around, running for the door. The groom sprung to his feet, but he was too late: Brynja had won. We whooped and clapped, as the groom's party grumbled and shouted good-humoured insults about his manhood.

Sten bowed low to his worthy opponent and, picking her up, carried her over the threshold and into to their new home.

I stepped back gingerly as the party filed in after them, turning to leave as the last of them entered. Although it was customary for me to join the celebrations, my blessing was done, and there was something much more pressing I had to attend to.

I only got about five steps when I heard a voice behind me. "You're not joining us?"

Looking back, I saw the mother of the bride, one cold eyebrow raised in my direction. Even though she made it very clear when she hired me that it was on behalf of her daughter, and acting against her wishes, she was still the one paying my bill.

I bowed my head, "My deepest apologies Madame. I would normally stay and celebrate with you, but Frigga has requested my presence."

Her eyes widened, "Queen Frigga?"

_Yes, you stuck-up sycophant_.

"Yes Madame, but if I am required here I will send word…"

"No, no, please. We are honoured by your presence here, thank you."

We bowed stiffly to each other, and I wandered to the stables to find my horse.

"Hello Nótreika," I said, stroking her long black nose, "I'm off to meet your former master." Nótreika snorted, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered angrily at my words. Her coat was as shiny and black as an oil slick, with a thin band of brown around her hooves, and forehead. Her name literally meant "night wanderer". Appropriate, given I first met her as she waited for Loki and I in the dead of the night, ready to whisk us out of the city under the cover of darkness.

Swinging up into the saddle, I squeezed my calves into her sides, pulling my hood up to cover my face as we set off toward the palace. "Let's go."

As I approached the north gate, I saw that two guards stood in my way. I dismounted, leading Nótreika toward them carefully. The younger one already had a hand on his hilt.

"Who goes there?" He asked, attempting to peer into the darkness of my hood.

"I am here to see Frigga."

"We will decide that," the older spoke, "Who are you?"

I pulled down my hood, revealing my face. The young soldier's hand dropped from his sword as he turned to the other guard, saying, "The Songbird," in a hushed voice.

I tried not to smile as the old guard tutted and frowned at him, he turned back to me, "Frigga is expecting you."

I bowed my head and lead Nótreika inside to a waiting stable-hand. She whinnied, nuzzling my shoulder, as if to say _Don't go._

"Shhh, I will be fine." I said, rubbing her bristly cheek.

I walked along a bridge floating high above the city below (trying very hard not to look down the entire way) and into a huge archway that lead into the palace. The sheer scale of its halls still overwhelmed me. Columns that reached so high their tops were shrouded in darkness; gold statues whose eyes glinted menacingly, who (we had told each other as children) would come alive if antagonised. Looking at them now, I almost believed it. Even though I had not been there for years, I found myself instinctively following the way to Frigga's chambers. It was almost as familiar to me as my own Mother's room. How many times had Loki and I sat entranced before Frigga on that rug, as she read us stories of monsters and warriors?

Entering the room I saw her standing by her balcony, the sunlight framing her in a glowing halo of hair. Unlike Odin, Frigga barely showed any signs of the passing millennia. Thor was a huge bear of a man beside her. Feared by many, yet I only held fond memories of him: his fierceness in battle was only surpassed by his kindness to those who knew him.

"Hello Brother," I said as I approached and bowed to Frigga, hand over my heart, "My Queen."

"Aelìs," Thor was surprised to see me. It had been a long time since we had spoken. "You know I have always yearned to call you Sister, I only wish it were in happier circumstances."

I nodded. "As do I. I take it your task went well?"

"The rebellions have been stamped out. But now the people must rebuild what they have lost: lives, homes… Such is the way of war."

Frigga stepped forward, "The dungeon guards will not question you." She smiled, placing both hands on my arms. "He will be happy to see you, no matter what he says. I do not doubt it."

I placed a hand over hers. "Thank you."

Thor looked at his mother sharply. "Mother, you visiting Loki is one thing, but Aelìs-" he shook his head at me, "I do not condone this. You do not know what he is capable of."

I lifted my chin, "I can take care of myself."

Thor began pacing, his great shadow passing back and forth over me. "He killed _thousands_ of people on Midgard, Aelìs, all in his vain obsession for a throne."

Frigga turned away, tears in her eyes.

"And how many have you killed today?" I asked.

He paused his steps. "That is different."

"What makes you right and him wrong?" His brow knitted. "I'm not saying I forgive him Thor, but every enemy is a hero in his own mind." He scoffed, turning away. "Will I be safe?" I asked.

He barely glanced back, "He cannot escape his cell, if that's what you mean."

I nodded once, and turned to leave, but was stopped by a large paw on my shoulder. I looked up to Thor, concern filling his eyes. "Aelìs… You are wasting your time. He is not the Loki we once knew."

I shrugged him off and walked away, fists clenching at my sides. He spoke my greatest fear, but I refused to believe it.

"I need to see for myself."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Hello lovelies! Welcome to my new followers, and thank you for waiting patiently to my old ones. Young Loki finally makes an appearance. The song for their dance is "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri. It's a long one! Hope you love it to pieces. Xx_**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"I, Raòld Fengardson, pledge my life in service to the All-Father. I swear to serve thee in battle until old age or death render me useless." My brother knelt before Odin in the Great Throne Room, head bowed, one hand on the hilt of the great sword that lay across Odin's lap, the other over his heart.

It was just before my fifteenth birthday, a day which marked a new chapter for both the twins: Dalla, freshly graduated from secondary school, ready to embark on the domestic education that would prepare her for marriage; and Raòld, now eighteen, ready for a career as a soldier. My parents never wanted their son to be a warrior, but Raòld had begged, and Odin himself had recommended him for the Service. It was a great honour, so they felt they had no choice.

Odin nodded to my Mother, who stepped forward in front of her son. "This sword belonged to your father," she said, with a tight voice and red-rimmed eyes, "and was entrusted to me until the day you were fit to wield it. That day has come."

As Roald took the sword, Odin's voice boomed out over the Great Throne Room. "I accept your pledge, boy. Now rise a man, and soldier of Asgard."

The room was filled with fatigued clapping (Raòld was the twenty-second pledge that day), as mother and son returned to stand either side of my father. He put a long arm around them both, squeezing them to him, and planted a kiss on my mother's temple as she wiped away a few stray tears.

Then the moment I had been anticipating finally came. The last boy took the stage. I held my breath. I had not seen Loki in four years, and what a change that time had made. He had shot up, and while he was a little broader, his long limbs seemed slightly too long for his frame. He knelt, offering his pledge to Odin as the others had done before him.

Thor, who had been standing proudly by his father's side throughout the ceremony, smiled at his little brother. Already with a reputation for his skill in combat, what Loki lacked in Thor's brute strength, he made up for with his cunning, and ability to quickly identify his enemies' weakness.

"I accept your pledge, my son. Now rise a man, and soldier of Asgard." This time Odin stepped forward, along with Thor and Frigga, to put their arms around him. Loki turned slightly pink in his family's arms.

Odin let go, turning to the waiting crowd. "Now go forth young warriors: stay loyal to your families, and true to your wives: for every day in service may be your last."

Outside, the steps of the temple were buzzing with family and friends gathered around to wish Raòld and his comrades well. Dalla and I were more excited by the fact that we were allowed to attend the feast at the palace afterwards, which would include the Princes themselves.

"Do you think he'll remember me?" I whispered to Dalla.

"If he recognises you. You're not exactly a child anymore," She said, looking at my bust and raising her eyebrows.

"Dalla!" I playfully slapped her on the shoulder and covering my chest, laughing.

"What's so funny?" A haughty voice interrupted. It was a girl named Igrid. A year older than me, her father worked with mine on Odin's council, so I often saw her at family functions.

"Loki and Thor are going to be at the feast," I told Igrid, "and if Loki likes Dalla, they'll be betrothed!"

The strictness of our betrothal laws meant that it was rare to find a rich young man willing to partake in it. It was said that Thor had no interest in marriage, so my parents had set their sights on the youngest prince, who was the same age as my sister.

"Aelìs, shush!" Dalla said, clamping a hand over my mouth.

Igrid crossed her arms, "You're sure about that?" She raised one sceptical eyebrow.

"I just heard my parents talking about it, that's all. It's _supposed_ to be a secret." Dalla threw a look at me.

"Oh, you mean they're _trying_ to arrange a betrothal," Igrid drawled, "Big difference."

"So? How do you know he won't fall instantly in love with her?" I looked up at my taller sister, with her bronze skin and blonde hair. How could he not?

"I'm just saying, I wouldn't get your hopes up Dalla, my parents have the same plans for my sister Heidi."

Dalla looked disappointed, but shrugged. "Well he isn't called the Prince of Mischief for nothing. Who's to say he'll choose any of us?"

"I couldn't think of anything more wonderful," I said dreamily, immediately embarrassed by my omission.

Igrid let out one sharp hoot of laughter. "Well keep dreaming Aelìs, because that's the closest _you'll_ ever get."

Dalla narrowed her eyes, "My parents have received _three_ proposals for her already. How many have you had?"

It was true, but my one saving grace had also been their high hopes for me, and their rejection of all offers so far. I would be starting boarding school soon, and my worst fear was that they would accept someone while I was away. Some rich, spoilt boy with a whiny voice. Or even worse, someone the same age as my father. It was not uncommon, and my powerlessness often drove me to despair, wondering if it would be better if I just… went away.

"Oh yes, wasn't one of them that fat, pimply Geir? I'm _so jealous._" She walked away, grabbing another girl's arm, and whispering something in her ear. They both turned and looked at us with smug faces, snickering.

Dalla huffed. "She _is_ jealous, you know," she said, taking my arm. "Come, let's get ready for this party!" She grinned as we set off back up the road to our house.

* * *

The feasting hall was filled with hundreds of people, eating from tables overflowing with glistening fruit, plump poultry, and vegetables dripping with garlic and butter. They milled about, drinking Odin's mead - the finest in Asgard - singing, dancing and gossiping.

As soon as we walked in, Dalla and I scanned the hall for Odin's sons. We spotted Odin, Thor and Frigga amongst the revelers… but no Loki. I was surprised by how disappointed I felt. What did I think was going to happen, even if he was there? Nothing, of course, but…. what if we were introduced? I would look upon his perfect face, and hear his voice speak my name. Perhaps he would bow, and ask me to dance. Just the thought sent my heart racing.

My mother rushed up to us, beaming, "You and Dalla are going to perform for the party!"

I snapped out of my daydream as the blood rushed out of my face. "What?" My voice came out in a squeak.

"Frigga wants to hear you play, Dalla, and you sing, Aelìs!" She was practically jumping up and down on the spot, "She's heard of your talents."

I suddenly felt short of breath. "Mother, _please_ don't make me. I've never sung in front of anyone. Let Dalla play alone, it's her you want to show off after all," I tried to smile, hiding my desperation.

"Don't be ridiculous, Aelìs. Everyone should hear you sing. A gift shouldn't be hidden; it should be displayed for all the world to see… preferably royalty." She winked. "Now, go wait over there by the musicians. They'll tell you what to do."

I looked at Dalla for help, but Mother was already walking off to brag to her friends. "You'll be fine Lìs, and you _shouldn't_ be hiding your talent. Come on." She took my hand and led me to the low stage where the musicians were playing. My stomach clenched, and with every step closer my nausea grew.

When the musicians finished their song, my sister spoke to the violinist, who nodded amiably, passing her his prized possession. She stepped up in front of them, motioning for me to follow. People started to turn, noticing us standing there, and I froze as more and more eyes fell upon me.

"_Aelìs!_" She hissed.

I forced myself to ascend the few steps and stand beside her, trying not to think about the fact that the All-Father himself was in the crowd, along with Frigga, Thor and possibly Loki.

My sister brought the violin to her cheek, lifted her bow and began playing the first heartbreaking notes of one of our favourite songs. I closed my eyes and sang, concentrating all my efforts on not projecting the fear I felt. I began to relax, immersed in the song itself and, as it reached its dramatic peak, and my voice rang out with an impossibly high note, I felt as if I were lifting, floating up with the music. When I opened my eyes again, re-emerging from my inner heights, everyone was up on their feet with applause, shouts of praise, and tears in their eyes. It was then I noticed Loki: tall, dark, and regal, standing at the back of the hall, looking at me with - was it awe? No. My heart stuttered.

When we descended from the stage, Odin and Frigga approached us. I held my breath as I stood before the All-Father himself, willing myself not to say anything stupid.

"That was an impressive performance," he said to Dalla.

Frigga kissed me on both cheeks, smiling warmly, "You still make me cry like a baby, Aelìs. You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you sing again."

"Yes, I remember," I said, recalling Loki and I singing for her. He would sing the loudest, with the most gusto, always trying to outdo me. There was one old, slow song that Frigga would always ask me to sing, then weep as I did. I never understood why she would want to hear something that made her so sad, but afterward she would wipe away her tears, kiss me, and say thank you. Even back then she knew my gift.

Odin turned his piercing blue eye upon me, as if searching for something. I swallowed hard, withering under his gaze. "And you - Aelìs, is it?"

"Yes Sir – Your Majesty," I stammered.

"Hmm," he nodded, as if coming to some agreement with himself. "You have quite the gift, my girl, don't hide it."

My eyes widened, "Yes - I mean – no. No, I won't Your Majesty."

_Please leave me alone, please leave me alone_, I chanted to myself.

"Well, we'll leave you alone now," he winked at me, and I clutched at my sisters arm as he and Frigga walked away.

"What's wrong Aelìs?" Dalla frowned at me when they were gone, "You've gone all pale."

"He knew… what I was thinking…" I mumbled.

My mother bustled toward us, "What did he say? Your father and I were just mentioning to he and Frigga how _eligible_ you are for marriage, Dalla. Oh I cannot contain myself!" She clapped her hands.

"Well, sit down before you hurt yourself, Mother," Dalla said dryly, "We're going to get some fresh air."

As we passed the feasting table, where the royal family now sat, Odin leant in to say something in Loki's ear. His eyes looked over my sister, and then me. His lips spread into a slow, wicked smile, and he raised his cup, nodding once in greeting. We both curtseyed, with me almost tripping over my feet in the process.

"Loki was looking at you," I said to Dalla in a thrilled voice, tugging on her arm as we continued outside.

She shrugged off my persistent grip, "Actually Aelìs, I think he is _still_ looking at _you_."

I turned my head and saw, with a jolt, that his eyes were indeed following me as we left the room.

My cheeks burned, "No Dalla, it is you he will marry."

Dalla shrugged, "You don't know that."

As we passed the archway leading out onto the large balcony, I shook my head vehemently, "_No_ Dalla, I would _never_ do that to you. You're my sister!"

It was much cooler outside, and Dalla's breath came out in a puff as she snorted, "You're telling me that if Loki chose you, you would never agree to it?"

"No…" I finished with less certainty, as we reached the balustrade, "I couldn't."

She was unconvinced. "You're the one who's been in love with him since you were four, not me."

My mouth popped open, "I have not!" I protested, "… and it was three anyway."

Dalla laughed, but stopped abruptly as she saw something behind me. I spun around, to see the Prince himself prowling toward us, a smirk on his sharp-featured face.

Had he heard us?

"Dalla and Aelìs Fengardson…. My, how you've _grown_," I shivered a little when he spoke my name.

His voice was as smooth as satin, growling the last word as he drank me in with his eyes.

"As have you, your Highness," Dalla curtseyed, but I stood stupidly rooted to the spot.

"Will you join me in a dance?" He asked, bowing. I gave a vacant smile, turning slightly away and pretending to be interested in the view. The last thing Dalla needed was her little sister ruining the moment.

Dalla cleared her throat.

I wondered if Odin had a law against lusting after your sister's husband.

Dalla nudged me, "Aelìs!"

I looked up at her in confusion and noticed Loki, who was gazing at me with a questioning brow.

My mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. _Say something you stupid girl, don't just stand there like a dying fish._

"Um… yes," was all I could manage, placing my hand inside his out held one.

Before we reached the archway, where the mix of spilling light and darkness caused a pocket of pitch-black that surrounded us, Loki leant in to whisper, "I often wondered where you'd disappeared to, my little Songbird." I closed my eyes, his lips almost touching my ear. He still remembered. "You won't leave me again, will you?"

I turned in surprise, his intense green eyes almost glowing in the darkness. We passed through the archway and into the light, my face still stuck in shock, mouth hanging open, while Loki led on, looking serenely arrogant as he always did, giving away no indication of the words he'd just spoken in the dark. I became very aware of people looking at me on the arm of the sought-after Prince, and had the wherewithal at least to shut my mouth.

"Let them look," he said, noting my hesitation, "It's not often I've had such beauty on my arm. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this, Aelìs."

My head spun. Surely he could not be serious? This was part of some cruel joke, was it not?

He led me through the gawking dancers, and took my small hand in his long-fingered one. I noticed his skin was paler than mine, if that was possible. He placed a hand on the small of my back, and began to move in time with the music, leading me so surely that I felt as if I were dancing better than I ever had in my life. In his strong arms I was safe, I was floating, I was the only girl in the room. I felt that if I never left his arms I would be happy. Surely _this_ was where I belonged.

A derisive laugh broke me from my cloud of happiness, as I turned to see Igrid watching with her friend from the ceremony. Were they in on it? I thought, unable to shake the fear that this whole dance was some elaborate prank, with me as its victim; that he would trip me, or leave me stranded while he and his friends laughed at my pathetic infatuation.

Next to Igrid, I caught a glimpse of my sister watching us. I saw the look on her face and I was nine again, with Loki taking my hand to carry me away to some mischief, leaving her behind. It was the same look she had now. It was she, after all, who my parents wanted for Loki, not me. Could I take that from her?

My happy bubble burst, I halted the flowing dance, stepping away from Loki.

"What's wrong?" He ordered, more than asked.

"I'm not feeling well, I need to sit down." Loki complied, walking me off the dance floor and to his seat at the table. "My sister has not danced all night," I said, as he sat down beside me, "Will you ask her?"

He hesitated for a moment, but I could not tell what he was thinking. "Of course," he said, immediately standing and sauntering over to my waiting sister. She looked up at him with her sky-blue eyes under thick eyelashes, and a practised sweet smile as she accepted his request. The poor man had no chance.

_Well you've done your duty now Aelìs, you can rest easy, _came the sarcastic thought.

I hadn't even notice that Frigga had been sitting beside me, so focussed was I on the long-legged Prince. "Your sister is quite the beauty," she said, smiling.

I watched them together: fair and dark beauty in juxtaposition. Both tall, both regal. A perfect wife for a Prince.

Someone plonked themselves on the bench to my right, and I ripped my eyes from the couple to see Sif, the great warrior-goddess, reaching for a cup of mead before sculling it down. She was magnificent and terrifying all at once. She saw me staring and pointed a thumb in Loki's direction. "You watch yourself with that one, sweet girl. His lips may drip with honeyed words, but the sweetest syrup attracts the most bees."

"Oh - Thank you…" I nodded dumbly as she leapt up to join the party once more. Of course, at the time I had no clue what she meant; though I would find out soon enough.

Unable to stand seeing my sister with Loki any longer, and knowing my already far-fetched dream was slipping from me, I left the hall toward the balcony. I reached the quiet dark outside, sitting on a bench out of the way, and looking up at the stars.

I wondered what future they held for me: would Loki haunt my heart forever? Or would age and other suitors dull the ache that nagged at me?

"I know what you're doing." A silky voice said behind me.

I whipped around, but I could see no one in the shadows. "I thought you were with my sister?" I asked.

"I am," he stepped forward, the light glinting of his high cheek bones and jet-black hair. "You have heard of my magic, surely?"

"Of course, but what you can exactly do with it is a little blurry..." He stalked around the bench to face me, green eyes never leaving mine. I felt pinned, any sudden movements and he would pounce on his prey.

"You think it's wrong to dance with me, when your parents want Odin's son for their eldest daughter."

I felt my cheeks burning, "How do you know what they want?"

He smiled condescendingly, "Because every parent in Asgard with a teenage daughter wants the same thing."

I felt foolish, to think for a moment that I had a chance with him, when I was probably up against half the girls in Asgard; but I stood my ground. "Even if their dream has no merit, it's still not right."

He held a slender finger to his lip, in careful thought. "And what of your dreams?" He asked.

_Don't ask me that_. "What of them?"

"Is it fair that your sister claims me for her own? Have you no interest in me yourself?"

"No, Loki," I would not play into his mind-games, "She is the eldest, I have no right."

He rushed forward, hands either side of me, face inches away from mine, "But what do you _want_?" I swear I felt his cold breath caressing my skin, even though I knew he wasn't really there. I didn't answer. "I remember a small, wild-hearted and wild-haired girl, who would follow me to the ends of the earth if I asked her. Has that changed?" He asked, eyes boring into mine.

I looked away, "I was a child…"

I gasped as his hand grasped my chin and brought it back to face him. "_Has it changed_?" He repeated

I swallowed, my heart thumping, his lips were so close to mine. Was he really here or with Dalla? What did he want from me? A confession? That in my wildest dreams I never thought I'd even be talking with him now; that dancing with him was the most exquisite moment of my life?

"No. It has not." I finally said.

He lips widened into a triumphant smile. "Good." He simply said, and vanished.


End file.
